


The Woman With The Daisies

by scarromanoff



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Mentions of Laura, i feel pain, though not by name - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:26:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarromanoff/pseuds/scarromanoff
Summary: Carmilla visits Laura every few months. Today is Laura's birthday.





	The Woman With The Daisies

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for this guys. Not gonna lie, this did hurt me a bit to write. Please comment what you think and what else you'd like to see.

She fiddled with the small bouquet, daisies, in her hand as she walked through the grass, navigating through the sea of stones. Reaching the place she was searching for, she stopped, smiling sadly at the little stone that marked the area. She crouched down beside it, careful stay to the side of it, and reached out, brushing her fingers along the cool, weather worn stone, tracing the faded letters like she did every time she came. She sniffed slightly and sat down completely, settling in for a bit. She had a routine, and to anyone looking on, it would look like she was just going through the motions, but to her it felt like an entirely new pain each time she came.

She tucked her head to her chest and took a deep breath, ripping out some of the grass to keep herself calm, grounded. Playing with the daisies again, she looked back up at the stone and smiled, a full, somewhat happy one this time. It may be depressing to come to this place, but it made her happy just the same, being here. Taking a breath, she began to speak.

“Hey sweetheart,” her voice was soft, quiet. It was so different from the way she normally was with others. She was a different person in this place, vulnerable, open. Here, she let herself feel, she let herself be free. “Happy birthday. I know you never wanted anything big, but this is a big one, cupcake. You always said it was a landmark, that you would accomplish something by this one.” She paused taking in a shuddering breath before continuing. “I brought you flowers. They’re not much to look at, but they’re your favourite. You always said the colour made you happy, that looking at them reminded you that all your problems were temporary. They always seem to do the opposite for me, remind me that you’re not here anymore.” She leaned forward slightly to place the bouquet against the stone and smiled at the little bit of colour they added to the area, the little bit of happiness. “They’re very you, you know. That little bit of joy in an otherwise joyless place. You were always like that for me, a little light in my darkness.”

She stopped talking for a while and just let her eyes wander, all the while trying to hold back tears. She watched the birds in the trees, the clouds as they passed across the sky, the grass as it swayed to and fro in the wind. Looking again at the little stone in front of her, she spoke.

“I brought you something else, cupcake.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, pink, pastry box. She set it down next to the daisies. “You used to go on and on about how much you loved them. Creampuffs. Honesty sweetheart, they’re not-” her voice broke and she let the tears fall freely, no longer trying to hide them. She cried silently, sitting in front of the stone, reaching out to feel it’s cool exterior, drawing comfort from it, from her. For a while, she stayed like that, head bowed, palm pressed to the flat stone in front of her. She sniffed again.

“I wish you were still here, sweetheart. I wish you could see the sun and the sky. I wish you could stay up with me to watch the stars, and tell me I’m being cheesy when I remind you that none of them could possibly outshine you. I wish you could go out to fancy restaurants with me, and get all dolled up for no reason. I wish-” her voice broke again and she sighed slightly. “I wish you were her with me.”

“Nothing’s right without you, cupcake.” She spoke after a long silence, whispering the confession. It had likely been over two hours since she had sat down, and most people would have left by now, but she rarely left before the sun went down; no matter when she arrived, she would stay.

“I’m teaching at the local university. You always said you thought I ought to get a degree and do something with my centuries of knowledge. After you- after everything settled down, I did. You were right, I do enjoy it. I hate the kids sometimes, they’re too entitled for their own good, but they’re curious. They remind me of you. Especially this one girl, she looks a bit like you; she’s got the same stubbornness, the same fire in her eye. She’s going places, just like you w-” she gulped before forcing herself to finish the statement, “just like you were.”

She sat in silence after that, unmoving, just watching the stone, and letting the world continue on without her; it had done so for so many centuries, a few hours wouldn’t hurt. The sun set and she described the colours, remembering how much her cupcake had loved watching the sky as it changed. It went fully dark, and as the stars began to appear, she pointed out the constellations, imagining the difficulty she had had trying to teach them years ago; she smiled at the memories.  
The woman knew she had to leave, she needed to teach the next morning, and although she didn’t technically need the sleep, she knew she’d regret it in the morning if she didn’t go now. She moved so that she was crouching again, a hand on the top of the stone she had spent so much time with. Leaning forward, she pressed a soft kiss to the smooth surface, murmuring a soft goodbye.

“I’ll be back for Christmas, sweetheart. I’ll be sure to bring some of those cookies you always liked.”

She stood, and with one last smile and touch of the stone, she turned and walked slowly back the way she came. She gave a slight nod towards the little house on the perimeter as she left, knowing that the groundskeeper was watching from the window and would raise their hand in return.

\--

As the time passed, and groundskeepers came and went, they would always leave a set of notes for their successors. Usually, they described proper treatment and maintaining of the plots, factors that changed as the times, and the grounds, did. But the one thing that stayed the same was a little section at the bottom, one that mentioned an interesting occurrence of every few months, a constant routine that never changed. It told of the woman with the daisies.


End file.
